Smile Because it Happened
by YukinaKid
Summary: Annie learns just how independent Auggie is. Five times Auggie was independent and one time he needed help.
1. Unsuspecting Superhero

A/N: This is probably one of the longest stories I've written here. Which is sad. As always, please let me know if anything doesn't sound quite right because it doesn't have a Beta! Please enjoy!  
>Summary: Annie learns just how independent Auggie is. Five times Auggie was independent and one time he needed help.<p>

Disclaimer: I'm not making money, don't own anything except for my words.

Auggie swept his cane once more in front of him and settled in his place in line. The intoxicating smell of black coffee and sweet cinnamon hijacked his senses for a moment, narrowing his world to a picturesque scene of a quaint little coffee shop, the colors too bright and sharp to be anything akin to the reality he knew to be true.

Relaxing into the atmosphere, his senses automatically catalogued his surroundings. A young couple a few customers ahead quietly bickered about wall paint colors. A little girl directly in front of him chattered happily to her half-listening mother who gave a short "mmm" or "oh?" every time the stream of sound paused expectantly for an answer. Auggie smiled as the little girl's excited voice began anew.

However, his senses picked up something not quite right a little to the right behind him in line. Two men were speaking in hushed, calm voices. Somehow the lack of modulation of the voices, calm and nearly emotionless, put Auggie on edge. His Special Ops training took over, now sharp and very aware, blocking out everything else in order to hone in on the two voices.

"Frankie, this is a stupid place. There's way too much natural light. Are you sure you don't want to try the tavern down the block?" Not only was there no emotion, there was no intonation in the voice. It was completely monotone. Auggie's hackles rose further.

"Nah. Besides, look at these people. They'd make good, healthy sacrifices. Most everyone here is below thirty. Lookit the kiddie, right there behind that lady with the poodle bag. She's a beauty, perfect for our mission." Identical tone leeched of emotion. Auggie's body instinctively edged toward the little girl, his head still faced forward. These guys were worse than normal perps. These guys were crazy and about to do something involving sacrifice.

Auggie opened his mouth to voice a warning, or at the very least try and determine if anyone else had heard what the two men were alluding to when his voice box froze at the cocking of a gun muffled by fabric. In that split second Captain Anderson took over. Deftly dodging the people around him, Auggie closed in on where the two men were still quietly conversing. Faking a stumble, Auggie collided with one of the men lightly enough not to dislodge the gun but hard enough to grab his attention. Plastering on his widest most innocent smile, Auggie glanced up at the men.

"Ah, I am so sorry!" Cue rueful chuckle. "I think I dropped my wallet and it's so crowded in here. Do you happen to see a brown leather wallet on the ground anywhere?" Add pitiful look.

Grunting irritably, the first signs of emotion creeping in, he gave a withering glance that was lost on Auggie. "We ain't seen no wallet buddy, why doncha look for yerself."

"Ah, but you see…" Auggie waved his hands dramatically in front of his face. And was greeted by a cold muzzle under his shirt pressing into the lower ribs on his right side. His body reacted the only way it knew how.

Planting an iron grip on the gun with his left hand, he crashed his other fist into the gun toting man hoping it was Frankie. His fist missed the cheek and nailed the nose head on. Auggie silently thanked his blindness. Blood gushed over his knuckles. The man, clearly not expecting a guy with a gun pressed to his side to fight back, much less a blind man, crumpled backwards his nose making a sick snap and then gun releasing a shot clipping Auggie's shoulder. The shot left Auggie disoriented, his eardrums vibrating painfully. Robbed of his main sense, Auggie grasped the last memory of the other man's position and hurtled himself at the body.

His world now silent, gravity drawing them downward, he barely had time to orient himself before his head exploded with sounds; bones cracking, metallic scents consuming the cinnamon, screams, frantic footsteps, a man frantically taking in air and suddenly going limp. The throbbing of his shoulder and knuckles dominated, something crawling slowly down his arm, and suddenly the deafening and all consuming silence. Special Ops Auggie took all these observations and translated them one by one. Two subjects passed out from lack of air. Broken facial bones, blood trickling from wounds. No civilians in the immediate vicinity which included, to Auggie's immense relief, the small little girl. Panting, he felt like he'd run a marathon at a sprint.

He was still sitting there, knees screaming for relief, when the police drove up an eternity and a half later. He had counted.

"Sir, are you hurt? Sir, what happened? Sir, how did you overpower them? Sir?" The endless barrage of calm questions, some self-explanatory and some not, washed over him and he answered equally calmly. "I don't know. I heard a gun. I rushed them."

It was only then, belatedly, that he realized he'd lost his cane sometime during the brawl. It was also then that it dawned on the police that this man was blind.

After more exclamations that were more awed statement than question, Joan was contacted (though for the life of Auggie he couldn't remember who had actually _called_ Joan). Auggie was led to an ambulance to wait for Joan. It was also possible it was because he was bleeding out, but that might have been secondary.

CA*CA*CA*CA*CA*CA

"Auggie," a soft hand and an even softer voice touched Auggie. Joan. Joan was here. Joan would take care of this.

"Joan." It was more of a breath than a word. The scent of grapefruit crept by his nose. "Annie…?" Annie was here. Why was Annie here? His brain felt like it was surrounded by a sticky fog, clogging synapses and making his thoughts chase each other.

A body latched onto him, robbing the air out of his lungs, arms comedically thrown around his neck effectively choking him off from voicing any of his other muddled thoughts. An involuntary pained gasp escaped his lips caused a sudden release and he could feel abandoned warm tears seeping into his thin undershirt. A soft slap to his knee jerked his focus to Annie.

"Auggie, what were you thinking?" Annie whispered hoarsely, barely penetrating his hazy brain.

"Yes, Auggie, I'd like to hear your story as well," Joan rubbed his arm in small circles, the only emotional show that didn't match her business-like tone.

So Auggie explained the events, akin to an official debriefing from the moment he entered the coffee shop up until the brawl. He focused on the little girl's happy-go-lucky voice, the cute voiced barista working that day, and the fact that they were safe. That's when the events bled together and mixed in his brain. After he fell silent he could hear Annie's eyes widen as she processed his story.

A pause filled with silence and dread coiled inside Auggie. A breath.

"Auggie, you're like a superhero," Annie declared matter-of-factly. "Supersonic Spook."

Caught off guard, Auggie let out such a loud chuckle it startled the paramedic dabbing at his arm gingerly stabbing the tender flesh of his shoulder in the process. But even that couldn't erase the grin off his face. Such an innocent declaration had a numbing effect on Auggie. Even Joan sniggered quietly.

"Why Kitten Heels, you have exposed my secret identity!" Auggie mock scowled. Annie shoved him playfully, sending white hot fire down his arm, throwing him into reality.

"You're gonna need stitches. I can't do 'um here," the paramedic proclaimed, effectively sucking the lightness out of the air like snuffing out a candle. Another moment's silence.

Auggie nodded at the paramedic and reached for Annie, squeezing her hand lightly and treating her to a blissful grin. "C'mon, Kitten Heels, let's fight some dastardly crime in the E.R."

"Can't you just fly there with your superhero jet pack?" Annie teased, looping her arm through Auggie's good one a smile tugging at her lips. Turning away from the ambulance, Annie tugged Auggie along beside her relishing the warmth and aliveness coming from him.

"I don't want to see either of you tomorrow," Joan said, startling both Annie and Auggie and reminding them of her presence. Joan sent Annie a knowing look across Auggie's chest. Annie raised her eyebrows and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Message received and understood.

"Hey, no telepathic communication with an ESP-lacking individual!" Auggie whined.

"Sorry, Supersonic Spook," Annie patted his hand. "You can't be amazing at everything."


	2. Always Be Prepared

A/N: I have had this written for three weeks. And then college happened. I worked from sunup to sundown to try and get my equilibrium back. So last night I decided "Screw Organic Chemistry, I am going to edit and type this story!" and so I did. I hope you enjoy it. It was a bit harder to write than the first chapter, but that was probably because of the large hiatus in between writing sessions. No Annie this time, sorry. She'll be in the next one, but I love the Joan/Auggie dynamic in the show.

Thank you everyone who has added this story to alerts and favorites. I am honored that you took the time to actually do something after you read the story and not just click "exit". As always, if you see something wrong, please let me know!

In hind sight, they must have been drunk. Or had brain damage. Or both. They obviously hadn't looked past the cane tapping quietly on the pavement long enough to notice the toned muscles peeking from the loose fitting t-shirt. And Auggie really couldn't blame them. He hadn't fathomed how a person could be anything but defenseless if robbed of one of their senses.

It was a routine evening, walking from the gym around the corner from his apartment. The night was pleasantly warm, with a cool undercurrent promising fall. The strangely appealing sounds of distant traffic and the discordant strains of cicadas rose around him, filling his ears as he lost himself in the moment.

Which was probably why he didn't notice the thugs until they were right on him.

"Lookie here, Chuckie," a man cooed from his right. "We got ourselves one of them dis-ab-led folk." He pronounced the word slowly, like he thought Auggie was ignorant of its meaning. More likely was that he had just learned the term himself and was showing off that not only could he pronounce it, he could also use it properly.

"Yeah!" a gruff, enthusiastic reply came from his left and a little behind. "Lucky us." Auggie was fairly sure the guy was trying to be intimidating, but the ruse was ruined by an adolescent squeak on "lucky".

"Hand over the bag, pal, and maybe we'll letcha off easy," the first man hissed into Auggie's ear, a very sharp knife kissing his Adam's apple.

Auggie silently analyzed his options. Big guy with sewer breath had a knife, but he had no idea what teen Chuckie was packing. A knife he could handle, but a possible gun was a different story. He listened harder, probing the night with his ears, trying to determine what his most effective course of action was.

A quick strike to his temple sent stars bursting through the synapses in his brain. Apparently, Sewer Breath wasn't a very patient man.

"Alright," Auggie acquiesced in a measured voice. "I'm taking my bad off, don't stab me."

Deliberately grasping the messenger bag's strap, he slowly ducked his head as if to remove it. When the bag cleared his head, he gave a quick yank and the strap snapped with a pop. Lunging, he landed on top of Sewer Breath. Frantically feeling for the man's face, he gave a swift punch to the jaw. The street was filled with a blood curdling SNAP as facial bones collapsed inward, followed by an animalistic howl of pain.

Suddenly, teen Chuckie was on him, his hands creating a vice-like grip around Auggie's trachea. Abandoning Sewer Breath, Auggie braced his body and pushed backwards, landing on Chuckie, his throat breaking free. Air whoosed out of Chuckie as gravity pulled them down, giving Auggie a spare moment to roll off the kid and try to reposition himself, hands assuming an automatic defensive position, his lungs frantically pulling in oxygen.

Hot molten flames engulfed his right shoulder, grazing the bone and tearing muscle and flesh. Obviously Sewer Breath had recovered sufficiently and literally stabbed him in the back. All Auggie could think was "Stabbing a blind man in the back. That must be a new low."

Sewer Breath opted to retrieve his weapon from Auggie. The blade grinding the bone was almost more painful the second time around. Warm blood seeped from the damaged skin, saturating his shirt.

Assessing his body's remaining energy, Auggie knew he'd have to end this quickly. Which meant going on the offense. Sewer Breath was breathing loudly, the sound of sucking blood betraying his location. Pivoting towards him, Auggie lunged with both of his hands, hoping his tenacity and the element of surprise would work in his favor. His left hand grasped the blade of the knife while the other felt its way to Sewer Breath's throat.

Grasping the throat tightly, his fingers dug deep into the skin and he was quite sure that his knuckles were blanching. He slid his left hand down the knife, the blade parting the skin. He found the hand grasping the knife and began to pry the fingers off the hilt. Auggie's blood made the handle slick and he easily plucked the knife from its owner.

He glanced towards where he estimated Sewer Breath's face to be and gave a slow, sinister smile complete with bloodstained teeth. Sewer Breath's motivation skyrocketed as he frantically renewed his efforts of trying to dislodge Auggie's hand and make a hasty escape.

With a precise hit to the region of the temple with the butt of the knife, Sewer Breath crumpled bonelessly. One target down, he slowly turned, filing away the small night sounds in pursuit of the other attacker.

The rattle of an aluminum can distracted him for a split second too long and Chuckie tackled him, handing on his chest and letting loose with his meaty fists. The knife skittered away very unhelpfully as Auggie held up his arms to fend off the barrage of blows. Timing for just the right moment, Auggie thrust his left hand, now slick with blood, towards Chuckie's face and smeared it across his eyes and forehead.

Chuckie drew back, an enraged howl escaping his lips as he furiously fought to regain his sight. Luckily for Auggie, he just so happened to have five years of experience in this field. Pushing up from the ground, Auggie seized Chuckie's face with his left hand and hit the neck with his right, rendering the kid unconscious.

Silence blanketed the street. Even the cicada calls were gone. Auggie got to his hands and knees and slowly felt for his messenger bag. After a few moments of searching, he located it and retrieved his cell phone.

He immediately called Joan, though he had no idea how late it was. He knew she practically slept with her cell phone, so he wasn't worried.

"Mmm… hello?" a groggy Joan answered.

"Hey Joan. Sorry for waking you up." He truly did sound apologetic. "I kind of have a problem." Auggie's voice trembled slightly as his adrenaline levels dwindled. At this point, he didn't even care about saving face. He just wanted to get out of this godforsaken alley.

His vagueness worried Joan, who knew all too well he had a habit of getting to the point. "Problem? What kind of problem?" Joan's brain was firing on all cylinders now, all cobwebs of sleep gone.

"Well," Auggie paused trying to find the best way to phrase it. "Two guys tried to mug me." Direct was always best.

"What? What do you mean, 'tried'?" Joan fought fruitlessly against the worry that was quickly overriding her exasperation.

"Well, they weren't expecting a blind man to fight. To be fair, I would have underestimated me too." He quipped, as if humor would dispel Joan's brain frantically churning out possible outcomes for this scenario.

"Where are you?" Joan asked, partly muffled by fabric which Auggie presumed must be a shirt being pulled over her head one handed.

Auggie could hear a sleepy "Honey, who is it?" mumbled from the background.

"A block from my apartment, South East."

Another inquiry of "Joan who is it?" slightly more demanding was picked up by the phone followed by Joan hissing, "Just a moment, Arthur!"

Joan addressed the phone. "I'll be there in five minutes, don't move." Followed by a click indicating the end of the conversation. The fact that Joan knew about the meaning of goodbye to him and deliberately left it out of their conversation warmed Auggie. He knew he had called the right person.

Exactly four minutes and fifty-four seconds went by before a screech of a car quickly breaking and the thump of a car door being haphazardly slammed startled him. After so much silence, he physically jumped.

"Auggie," Joan's stay-calm-in-a-crisis voice called, betrayed by her frantic footsteps.

Auggie pulled himself to his feet and Joan stopped short just in front of him. Silence crept back around him; the sound of Joan's heavy breathing filled his mind. He was safe now. He felt Joan's eyes on him as Joan absorbed the scene around her operative. Inspecting him, she slowly circled taking in the blood stained clothes and the deep bruises that were almost black in the streetlight. She took a breath that sounded like a strangled sob and she pulled him into a hug.

Auggie didn't know how long they stood like that, silent because no words were needed. Joan pulled away first.

"Okay, let me get your bag and cane and we'll get you into the car." No-nonsense Joan was back and in control, solving the world's problems. Joan afforded a disgusted look at the two men who were both unconscious in contorted positions. "I have duct tape in my car." A pause. "Until the local PD get here."

Somehow that didn't surprise Auggie. Joan was so prepared it'd make a boy scout envious.

After settling Auggie into the passenger seat (Auggie protesting about ruining the upholstery and Joan telling him that if he kept complaining she'd make him pay for the detailing) Joan popped the trunk and began duct taping the would-be muggers. She may have been a little too rough, but she did have a bleeding operative in the car that took priority.

Joan was pleased to note that she finished the deed in less than two minutes (thanks to the unintended positions Auggie left them in). A short call to the police and an anonymous tip later, they were pulling up to the local emergency room. Twenty-seven stitches after, Joan delivered him back to his apartment. If Joan happened to fall asleep on his couch basking in the aliveness coming from Auggie, neither mentioned it on the ride to the office the next morning.

A/N: Thanks to The Red Fedora for pointing out that if you are intending to write within the laws of the natural world, not implying the amount of time before Auggie was stitched up is sort of a large, embarrassing hole in the story. It is now (sort of) fixed. The best asset are peers' critiques!


End file.
